


Solace

by MmeSatan



Category: Ghost (Sweden Band)
Genre: F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Soft Papa Emeritus II
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-27
Updated: 2019-02-27
Packaged: 2019-11-06 08:19:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17936180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MmeSatan/pseuds/MmeSatan
Summary: Papa comforts his SO when she has a panic attack.





	Solace

Papa was pacing in his room. He was not in a good mood. He was, in fact, very much annoyed. When they had parted ways in the morning, Beatrice had told him that Sister Imperator had some “special tasks” for her to do that day, but that she would make sure to bring him his meals. He disliked that she would be asked to work when any other Sister of Sin would surely do. However, questioning Imperator's motives was a waste of his precious time, and he let it slide.

 

True to her words, she had brought him his lunch and apologized for being unable while he ate. But when the time for his afternoon coffee came, an unfamiliar, very young Sister came in with the tray. He gave her a puzzled look. “Who asked you to bring this?” She bowed her head. “Sister Imperator did, Your Unholiness.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and let out an irritated sigh. “Very well, you may go now.” He made a note to talk to Imperator about the situation.

 

He had dinner with Nihil to discuss important matters, and he expected her to be waiting in his suite as usual when he returned. She was not. No note, no phone call or text message from her either. Papa wanted to see her now, and she wasn’t there. He tried calling her -- no answer. So he paced, looking at his watch repeatedly and cursing. With anyone else, he would have been very angry. Not with her. Never with her. And as the minutes went by and his calls kept going to voicemail, one thought kept coming to his mind:  _ Something is wrong. I need to find her. _

 

By the way people avoided him as he crossed in the halls, Papa knew he must have looked like hell. He was simply too focused on his mission to care. He headed straight to the dormitory, counting the unmarked doors to find her cell. He opened without knocking, but found the room dark and empty. He cursed. Where could she be? Then, as he was about to close the door and leave, he heard a sound coming from the small room -- labored breathing. He stopped and turned around. “...Beatrice?” No answer. He entered and turned on the light.

 

    The sight before him felt like a punch to the gut. Beatrice was sitting on the floor by her bed, curled up on herself. Her eyes, red and puffy, were fixed in front of her, empty. She did not look at him as he moved in front of her, did not even seem to notice him. There were trails of dried tears on her cheeks. She looked… hell, she looked like a mess. He’d never seen her like that before, and it hurt. 

 

    He approached her slowly. “Beatrice? It’s me. It’s Papa.” No response. Gently, he placed a hand on her shoulder and lifter her chin with the other to angle her face toward his. “Cara? Can you hear me?” She blinked rapidly a few times as her eyes regained focus. She seemed to be emerging from a very deep place. “Papa?” He let out a sigh of relief, his thumb rubbing away the traces of tears on her face. “What happened, cara? Talk to me.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry, Papa, I…” Her eyes flooded with tears as she collapsed onto herself. His heart sank. He could not let her be like that for even another minute. He kneeled down next to her. “I’m going to pick you up now, okay?” She nodded.

 

    He sat on the small bed, Beatrice on his lap. She was still crying, head buried in his chest, while his hand was busy petting her hair. “It’s alright, bella, you’re safe now. Papa is here.” She was shivering in his arms, probably as much from the cold of the cell as from the exhaustion he could read on her face. How long had she been in the dark like that before he found her? Papa fought to keep his anger in check -- he could find and punish whoever was responsible for hurting her at a later date. Right now, she needed him, and he held her tight.

 

    Her tears stopped, but she still clung to him like her life depended on it. He soon felt her melt into his embrace and pressed a kiss against her hair. He relaxed too, and started to hum as he often did. “Papa…”, she whispered, her voice small and uncertain. “Yes, dear?” She tugged at his shirt. “Could you... could you please sing for me?” 

 

    So he did. He sang old love songs that were for her ears only, sang until her breath was even and her eyes closed. He kept singing, more for himself than for her, as she fell asleep in her arms.

 

_             I was not myself last night _

_             In the morning light I could see the change was showing _

 

    He moved a strand of hair out of her face, careful not to wake her up.

 

_             Like a child who was always poor _

_             Reaching out for more I could feel the hunger growing _

 

    He closed his eyes, listening to his own voice resonating on the bare walls.

 

_             And as I lost control _

_             I swore I'd sell my soul for one love _

_             Who would sing my song _

_             And fill this emptiness inside me _

 

    She stirred in his arms but he paid no attention, lost in the music.

 

_             One love _

_            Who would sing my song _

_             And lay beside me while we'd _

_             Dream a bit of style _

 

    She opened her eyes.

 

_ Dream a bunch of friends _

_             Dream each other's smile _

_             Dream it never ends _

 

    Her voice joined his.

 

_             All my dreams are lost and I can't sleep _

_             And sleep alone could ease my mind _

 

    He opened his eyes. She was looking at him, smiling.

 

_             All my tears have dried and I can't weep _

_             Old emotions may they rest in peace _

 

He smiled back.

_             And dream, dream a bunch of friends _

_             Rest in peace, and dream, dream it never ends _

 

He brought their foreheads together. 

  
  
  


    “Hello, Beatrice.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Hope I didn't give anyone bad flashbacks of the old songfic days -- Papa is a singer, it only makes sense, no? 
> 
> Song: "Faust" by Paul Williams, from the movie Phantom of the Paradise (which I cannot recommend enough)


End file.
